


Not Alone

by duskblue



Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (minor. Peter gets a laceration on his hand), Gen, May is Dead, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskblue/pseuds/duskblue
Summary: Peter’s nightmare is so bad, he falls out of bed. Tony hears the crash and rushes in.Bingo Prompt used: Nightmare
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326146
Comments: 17
Kudos: 405
Collections: Iron Dad Bingo





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo! I got quite a few comments requesting to continue with the last Bingo story, so that’s what I’ve done. If you haven’t read it, you can go back and read “Staying Right Here” otherwise it should read okay on its own. All you really need to know is it’s post-endgame and May dies. Obviously Tony is alive. (I won’t ever write anything where he isn’t btw. In case anyone cares lol) 
> 
> Thanks again for all your support with these bingo fics. I know 2019 will be over, but I’m still going to work on these till it’s done. FYI :D

Peter hits the floor with a crash and wakes up instantly. He’s sore, his heart is beating out of his chest, and his face is wet with tears. He’s almost sweat through his pajamas, so the cool hardwood floor beneath him feels good. 

He just had one of the worst nightmares of his life. He was wandering an enormous building, just walking and then running through hall after hall and getting nowhere. He had been calling out for his aunt May and his uncle Ben but they didn’t answer him. It was getting darker and darker until he could barely see his way. He cried for Tony over and over again with no response until the floor beneath him opened up and he fell into a cold, black pit.

That must have been when he fell on the floor. It’s still dark, and it’s a little chilly, but it’s nothing like his nightmare. He’s trying to calm his breathing when he remembers that his bedroom doesn’t have hardwood floor, and his eyes open wide, looking around him and trying to take everything in through the darkness. His arms reach out in front of himself, and he tries to feel around. Maybe he knocked his phone over.

“Ouch,” he says when he touches something sharp. And then his hand is wet, and he’s not sure why. Before he can process everything, there’s a knock on the door, and he looks up.

Like a ton of bricks it hits him. Peter isn’t at home in his bedroom. He’s staying with Tony, and he’s been there in the fancy Manhattan penthouse for almost two days. All because May is dead.

He quickly wipes at his tears.

When the door opens and light filters in, Tony is standing there, looking in at him with worried eyes. “Peter?” he says leaving the door open and rushing over to Peter, squatting down to check him over. “What the hell happened?”

Now that there’s a bit of light in the room, Peter can see that the bedside lamp is in pieces all around him on the floor. What’s the most disturbing are the smears of blood on the hardwood. “I don’t know,” he says shakily. “I guess I fell out of bed. I’m sorry about the lamp.”

“Don’t worry about the lamp,” Tony says. “Where are you hurt?”

Peter remembers something sharp digging into his palm, so he holds it out. “I think here. It’s probably not too bad.”

Tony’s eyes are so filled with concern, that it almost makes Peter worry. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” He reaches out for Peter’s good hand and pulls him up. “Be careful where you step. That’s it. You got it.”

Peter lets himself be led around the glass and into the hallway where they make a quick path towards the bathroom. The light is so bright that he has to cover his sensitive eyes and squint through his fingers, finding his way inside and taking a seat on the lid of the toilet while Tony digs through the linen cabinet. 

“Did you look in the mirror?” Tony says, turning to Peter and gently pushing his hands aside before he wipes at his face with a soft washcloth. “You look like you came out of a haunted house. Scared the shit out of me.”

“No, I didn’t,” Peter says, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” Tony hushes. He sets the washcloth on the counter and turns the water on. “Hold your hand here.”

The water is a little warm, but it still stings as the cut on Peter’s palm is rinsed out. It’s stopped bleeding for the most part and is probably starting to stitch itself back together, but Tony spends some time putting some antibiotic gel on it and wrapping Peter’s hand in a bandage. 

“There,” he says, giving Peter’s fingers a little squeeze. “How’s that? Does it hurt?”

The truth is that Peter has had way worse injuries in the past. This is nothing, and by the time the sun comes up, it’ll be like it never even happened. But he appreciates the gentle care Tony is giving him. His physical injury is nothing compared to the emotional damage to his heart in the last few days, so it’s nice. He shakes his head and wipes at a stray tear with the back of his uninjured hand. “No, it’s fine. Thanks. I’m really sorry about the lamp.”

One side of Tony’s mouth quirks up in a smile and his eyes are sad and kind. “Don’t worry about that stupid lamp, Pete. However, I think we’re both a little too tired to clean that up right now. How about we crash in the living room? Happy’ll be here at nine. You and I have some errands to run, and I’m gonna send him to your apartment to grab your things. So let’s get a bit more sleep, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter agrees, standing up and letting Tony guide him from the bathroom. 

The living room is still a little messy from their makeshift movie night earlier. Their leftover snacks are still on the coffee table, and the couch is still covered in a mess of blankets. It’s easy for Peter to crawl right back into the spot he’d been curled up in before and pull a pillow under his head. It’s cozy, and he’s exhausted, but the nightmare is still fresh, and he’s not sure he wants to go back to sleep. “Maybe I’m not really tired,” he says. “Can we turn on a movie?”

Tony flops down onto the other side of the couch, pulling up his feet and carefully rearranging the blankets. “You look pretty tired to me,” he says. “And you’re going to be even more tired later on if you don’t get enough sleep.”

“I’ll be okay,” Peter says, but it sounds and feels hollow. 

“You need your sleep, kid.” Tony throws the fuzziest blanket over him. “Trust me, and I’m speaking from experience--not sleeping will only make everything else worse. You can deal with everything better if you’re well rested.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t want to tell Tony about the nightmare. It’s sad, and the last thing he wants is for Tony to feel even more sorry for him. It’s not fair to burden him with anything else. Then again, maybe if Tony knows why he doesn’t want to sleep, he’ll let him turn on a movie. “I just—” he starts, pulling the fuzzy blanket up to his chin. “I had a really bad dream. I guess that’s why I fell off the bed and knocked over the lamp. What if the dream comes back when I go back to sleep? I don’t want to break anymore lamps, Mr Stark.”

“I figured it was something like that,” Tony says, sighing. “And for Christ’s sake, stop worrying about that stupid lamp! It was ugly, and we’re going to redecorate that room anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll stop worrying about the lamp,” Peter mumbles.

Tony sighs again and sits up in his spot, reaching over to pat Peter’s knee through the blanket. “I’m no stranger to nightmares, Pete. I know how hard it can be to sleep. So if you want to watch a movie, then we can turn something on. Tomorrow isn’t going to be easy though, and you really should try to sleep a little. What if we turn something on and put the volume way down. And I’ll be here the whole time. You think you can sleep a little then?”

“Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks, Mr Stark.” Peter tries his best to smile in appreciation. While he’s definitely not feeling the luckiest at the moment, he’s definitely grateful that Tony’s there for him. Things would be a whole hell of a lot worse if he weren’t.

Tony gives his knee another pat before settling back into his blankets and pillows. “You pick the movie, bud.”

“FRIDAY, play The Hobbit,” Peter says, and the television comes to life, the opening of the movie rolling onto the screen. 

“Low volume, please,” Tony mumbles, and the sound goes way down. “Make it so spider ears can hear it but my old man ears can’t. Thanks.”

Peter chuckles and burrows back into his blankets, stretching out his feet a little until they touch Tony’s legs. That way when he closes his eyes, he’ll know that he’s not alone.


End file.
